the haunted kingdom by Charles E.J. Moulton (snow like ashes txt) 📕

Steven’s eyes. He knew that she had not liked breaking the contact.
The embrace was clearly platonic and they sat and talked for twenty minutes alone by the oak next to the sunflowers when she was called to join Mormidar and Ulfaas, when Steve suggested they ride out. Both Belinda’s parents and Steve asked the two of them respectively what they had spoken of, but none of them said more than: “Memories!”
The two men, beaming and rosey cheeked walked up to the three women and saluted them. Tom, close to his fashion, took one of the rolls on the plate and began munching. There was an empty glass on the table with a bottle of wine. Geena saw him looking at it and grinned. She nodded and he poured himself a glass and began drinking.

Tuesday Afternoon, May 12th, 1422 A.D. – 155 Days left

Jack Rumus, the old deliveryman that had lost his horse and his seven barrels of mead in April, was facing a painting created ten years ago. It showed King Alexander in his blue robe riding atop Mercutio Senior who died of old age two years ago.
The horse had been Alex’s favorite and labeled Senior because Alexander hoped one day to have a horse he liked as much as that one, some stallion he would label Mercutio Junior. The background was a beautiful landscape and in the distance there was a field of sunflowers.
He was full of food now, to be sure. The meal that had been prepared for him in the room that he had just come out of, the door was under the painting of the King, had been Orange Soup and Peacock à la Clurafar and Chocolate Mousse with red wine. Some jaunty little woman with bubbly cheeks had cooked it and a cute little girl had served it. All of this made his soul a little happier. He had not been able to sleep since his horse died. He tried to concentrate on other things.
It had been a month ago yesterday. This night had been hard, additionally because he knew for the past week that he was off to see the King on this very day. What was this place like, he wondered.
The main hall had a black and white chequered marble floor and a large rounded form. Its magnificent gilded chandelier had hung there since the 13th century and was studded with pearls and diamonds that glittered when lit with candles and could be manually lowered. There were torches everywhere around the room and the light flickered. Upon the painting Alex looked magnificent. It covered the whole left wall. The man was in awe.
“Beautiful,” he whispered to himself.
Rumus had dressed up in his best Sunday suit for the occasion. It was the only one he had. He had gone to his barber for a haircut and the man had even checked his teeth if something had to be done. He had a meal and his son Gordon Rumus Lateras (the latter name came from the old Wandiffian word for courage, a name the son had taken once he became a Private in the Army) had brought him to the Senate, where they had picked him up. Gordon had his own time with the King in a week.
The door opened and a very elegant, modestly thin man came through the door. On the other side of it was a corridor that seemed to be leading down to a hallway of sorts with doors. The man’s hands were shaking as the butler, the man obviously was a butler, came up to him.
“His majesty will see you now, Sir!”
The man nodded quickly and followed him down a hall with a very elegant stone floor that his heels clicked on as he crossed it. There were paintings of Prosperanian townships on the left and white leaded glass windows on the right. Rolf turned round and asked him if his trip had been good and he said yes.
The staircase was all mahogany and there was a side entrance accompanied by a statue of some angel. All brown wood with carpets and paintings everywhere, two staircases lead away from the main one on two separate landings. They took the right one and wandered down another corridor. Turning left, the man walked in before him.
“Mr. Jack Rumus for you, Sire!”
A deep rich baritone answered. “Send him in Rolf!”
Jack stepped in. The hall was big and the painting of the entire royal family dominated the main wall left only possibility for a steady gaze. On the left wall, between the two large windows overlooking the grounds was a fireplace with an unusual clock on it.
On a throne of blue velvet and gilded silver sat the King. He stood up. The man was not fat, but hefty. He was tall and had a nicely trimmed beard, sparkling eyes and a very sympathetic smile.
He nodded and walked over, taking his hand. Jack Rumus was shaking the hand of the King.
There were wrinkles, laugh wrinkles mostly, but the youth that this fifty-year-old man exuded was amazing. Longevity ran in the family and he could see why.
“Overwhelmed to meet you, Your Majesty!”
“And you …” the king smiled. He looked across Rumus shoulder. “You may leave us now, Rolf!”
“Yes, Sire.” Rumus gazed back and saw him leave.
“Come in and sit down.”
They walked to the throne. There was another man sitting across the room that he hadn’t noticed, very handsome man with dark blond hair and full lips. He was playing the lute.
“Was your trip satisfactory?”
”Yes, Sire. My son, Gordon Lateras, brought me to the Senate where you told me to come and waited for your butler to pick me up.” Alex smiled and nodded sympathetically.
“He has a time with me next week. Have a seat.”
Rumus sat down and was dazzled by the sun in his eyes from the window. “Should we bring the alabaster shades down?”
Rumus shook his head. The chair was soft. Like baby skin. Blue velvet. Fantastic.
“Go on.”
“You have an extraordinary palace, your majesty, legendary among common folk like me.”
“It is a nice place and very familiar to me, Jack. To me it is home. Can I call you that?”
“Certainly, Sire!”
“Then call me Alexander!”
“I would never dream of it, Your Majesty!”
“I insist!”
“No, I could not!”
“As you wish!” He smiled.
“Did Geena prepare a good meal?”
He nodded. “Excellent!”
”I understand you are quite a cook yourself.”
“I have an inn, Sire. In such an establishment you have to be one. It is called The White Lamb and it lays in Clurafar. We make our mead, too, Sire, and the mead is known for its rich flavour.”
“I have heard of it, Jack.”
“Really?”
Alex nodded. “Do go on, by all means …”
“It melts on the tongue. Anyway, we have orders coming in from all across the county and four carriages that are in constant motion, not counting the one that was destroyed, Sire.”
It was time to speak of the unspoken. “You were attacked, weren’t you, Jack?”
“Yes, Sire.” Rumus looked down. “My best horse died in the attack.”
“Who attacked you?” Alex sat forward on his throne.
He pursed his lips and thought. “I don’t know. I thought it was a thin man, but it also could’ve been a woman. The culprit wore a blue robe with the Prosperanian Eagle. It rode side-saddle and must’ve been a real expert on riding for it crisscrossed my path for about a mile before actually disappearing and then suddenly appearing out of nowhere in front of me and spooking the horse into the ditch. It disappeared into the forest from which it came.”
“Which one?”
“The Zellue Forest that leads to the Nocturanian Border. The ones that mothers warn their children about.”
“What do the people say?”
“They are afraid, Sire. Some say that you send them to spy on them, Sire. But I tell them no, for you are good man, and I believe what your messenger says.”
“What is that, Jack?”
“They ride side-saddle. They do trick riding. They wear capes. The all come from forests or out of valleys and ditches. I am an old pro in the delivery business and all my colleagues that are in the innkeeper business know what I know.”
“What?”
“That this seems like forest warrior tactics to all of us.”
“And yet, there are people who blame me?”
“Yes.”
“Anything more you can tell me?”
The man thought for a second. “The shoes were spiked and kept on pressing into the flesh of the black stallion. I felt sorry for the horse, being an old horse lover myself, Sire. It had a bluish tinge in it’s blackness, Sire. Never seen anything like it. This is obviously not the first time.”
Alex nodded, stroked his beard thought for a bit. He looked at Rumus and smiled. He walked to the window.
“Come here, Jack!” Jack did as he was told. “Look out the window. What do you see below us?”
“A carriage. A black carriage with two white stallions, I believe. A very large, handsome, sturdy thing, that, it could hold many barrels.”
“Can you count the barrels upon it?”
Rumus counted, his lips moving. “Twelve I believe.”
Alex nodded. “These are barrels of ale and mead from my brewery across town and they are all yours to keep.”
The man looked at his majesty. It was gaze that could not find words. “F-for me, Sire?”
“If I had done this, Jack, I would not benefit by it by having to repay you and lose money, right?”
“I do believe you are right in that aspect.”
”I want you to ride home with these barrels and celebrate with your son and wife tonight. Your wife and son will come to meet me next week. There are special reasons why they should come alone. Have some mead on me, Jack.”
Rumus looked out onto the side of the palace again. A tear fell down slowly from his cheek.
“Thank you, Sire. I am speechless.”
”Promise me that if you are attacked again, don’t try to outwit them. Stop the carriage and leave. Trust me when I say you will get a new carriage from me. The carriage can be replaced. You cannot.”
Jack Rumus smiled. “You are a good man, Your Majesty.”
“Promise me, Jack” Alexander insisted.
“I promise.” Jack said and with that the conversation ended and the old man left the Majesty’s presence.

Wednesday, May 13th, 1422 A.D.

Belinda held a document in her hand made of sheep’s vellum delivered by a senatorial deliveryman just a moment ago.
Marie-Louise had rushed up and handed it to her and shortly there after Belinda ran to her father’s study and handed him the document.
It took a moment for him to realize what was actually written there. Eleven years flashed by his inner vision and he was back at Rigor Mortis clutching his daughter’s bloody wrist and hearing her whisper “Who is Nina Ray?” through her tears.
“The girl is jailed in the senatorial chambers,” Belinda whispered. “I will go there myself to hold a trial.”
“A trial” Alex said. “Do you know what you are getting yourself into?”
“I need to know who she is.”
“Why do you always have to tempt fate?”
“She might be part of the Nocturanian conspiracy. It is our duty to be there.”
“It is our duty to stay alive.” Alex shouted. He shook his head and walked away.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Out of the question. We don’t take risks. Let professional questioners do it first, then we’ll both go.”
“I can’t wait that long. Now that I know she is not just an illusion I